


Is it three o'clock yet?

by ayal, fyborg23



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Crack, Gen, High School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayal/pseuds/ayal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyborg23/pseuds/fyborg23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan turned back to his screen, typing away at the memo he had to put out for Wayne, even though Wayne knew what happened today in excruciating detail  and he was a bit busy with Richard High. How in the hell do you explain that a local reporter with bad fashion taste had a hate-on for your award-winning history teacher without using those words? How in the hell do you explain Pierre and Kesler suggesting that they call those aggrieved parents but not so nicely?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is it three o'clock yet?

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Ayal and I were talking, and she said, _"Pronger would laugh if his students cried. he's the guy who makes students hate math. Sid would be the really enthusiastic history teacher,"_ and we started talking about the events at Howe High. Warnings for swipes at hockey players and the American education system. 
> 
>  
> 
> Dramatis Personae  
> Dan Bylsma, Head Administrative Assistant for Howe High.  
> Patrick Roy, AP French and French I, II, and III Teacher.  
> Peter Laviolette, UPS Deliveryman.  
> John Tortorella, Principal of Howe High.  
> Don Cherry, “Investigative” Reporter who covers “Your Tax Dollars at Work”  
> Mario Lemieux, Former Superintendent of the Clarence District  
> Wayne Gretzky, Superintendent of the Clarence District  
> Sidney Crosby, US and AP European History Teacher.  
> Claude Giroux, Spanish Teacher.  
> Tyler Seguin, Wayward Student who didn't go off course as much as not get on course.  
> Geno Malkin, Fine Arts and Industrial Design Teacher.  
> Stevie Yzerman, Important Community Figure, but no one can agree why he's so important.  
> Seth Jones, Potential Student-Citizen of the Year.  
> Nathan MacKinnion, Student who gets into fights.  
> Tom Wilson, Student who gets into too many fights.  
> Chris Pronger, Math Teacher, evil.  
> Sean Avery, Not Appearing in this Fic, except as an embittered voice.  
> Schenn Brothers, Students who are intimidated by Chris Pronger.  
> Brendan Shanahan, Vice Principal and Student Conduct Coordinator.

**Ten O'Clock**

 

"So."

Dan looked up at Roy occupying more than his fair share on _Dan's_ desk. Dan raised his eyebrow and asked dangerously, "How can I help you, Roy?"

Roy chuckled, making himself look even more like a pigeon, and sipped at his coffee. Said, "Hear you have a little romance with the UPS guy, Disco Dan." Dan clenched his teeth and goes back to the excel spreadsheet; for the thousandth time he wished that Torts could be assed to learn how to work Excel. Right on cue, Lavy strolled in--

And saw Roy smiling beatifically at him. Lavy cleared his throat-- he's worked enough routes to know what crazy looks like, and this guy on Dan's desk radiates crazy. Roy opened his mouth, "So you are the one having the romance with Danny-boy here."

Dan bristled. He hated "Danny-boy" even more than Disco Dan. He wasn't even Irish. Lavy shrugged his shoulders, said to Roy, "Funny idea of romance, sir, if he's telling me 'fuck you' every time we meet."

Roy turned to Dan and beamed, "Oh, I don't know, maybe that's luuurrrrve." Dan would've liked to murder Roy with all of his paperweights, but then Torts would murder him.

Lavy slowly handed him the plastic envelope and the pad, and Dan could see Lavy's eyes darting for escape. Dan smirked. A crack in the armor.

Maybe he should ask Roy to hang around.

As Lavy speed-walked out of there, Roy humphed and said, "Son is thirsty."

Dan frowned, "You listen to the kids too much. Why are you here anyway? Aren't you supposed to be teaching students Quebecois curse words somewhere?"

But Dan still slid his bowl of candy toward him.

Roy said around the hard candy in his mouth, "It's my free period. Your lover boy always come during this time?"

Dan protested "He is not--”

Dan was interrupted by Torts' storming out of his office while muttering furiously under his breath and seated in his swivel chair.

"Roy, what are you doing here? My blood pressure doesn't need you right now!" Torts said, making his eye twitch a little. Dan wished the Torts and Roy show could be somewhere far away from him. And no, Torts' office was not far enough. Dan was sick of wearing earphones to mask the... _noises_ they made behind closed doors.

Roy pulled up one side of his mouth, and slid off Dan's desk, said, "You sure? I've been told I'm very calming."

Torts scooted on his chair, pointed towards the door, and snarled, "Get out, Roy."

Roy complied, but not without thrusting his hips a few times in Torts' direction. Dan felt ill. Torts looked around to make sure that Roy wasn't hanging around like a dingbat, and then swiveled towards Dan. Dan cringed. Torts was a grown man but insisted on scooting around on his chair before 10 AM.

"Dan. Tell me again why I can't murder Don Cherry,” Torts said while pointing at him.

"Because you would have to talk to Pierre McGuire and Kesler would have to be your lawyer. What has he done now?"

"Some pissant of a parent apparently called Cherry and said that Crosby was teaching the 'wrong side' of the America-Mexico war, and that Crosby was 'unpatriotic'." Torts did the finger quotes rather angrily.

Dan rubbed his temples. He liked Sid, he really did, but Sid's inclusive teaching curriculum tended to piss off the big donors. Said, "It's history. Let Pierre handle it."

"Cherry is devoting 15 minutes on the 10 o'clock news about it."

Fuck. "Call Pierre, I'll see if Mario and Stevie Y can smooth things over with the parents before this airs."

Torts moaned-- Dan didn't blame him, he hated Pierre too-- but scooted back to his office to call Beware-Pierre. Dan hit himself in the forehead before he presses 1 for Mario on the speed-dial. As shitty as Messier was, Don Cherry never did segments on Howe High during Messier's tenure.

Mario picked up the line, sounding cheerful. Dan winced; this would ruin Mario's good mood. It didn't happen often. Mario seemed to have a perma-scowl etched on his face when he was in between chemical peels.

"Mr. Lemieux, we, uh, have an emergency with Don Cherry airing a segment about one of our teacher's curriculum."

"What is that idiot crying about this time?" Mario said, clearly rolling his eyes.

Dan wished Mario hadn't retired for a moment, he knew how to deal with Cherry far better than anyone at Howe High.

"Mr. Crosby is, uh, teaching the so-called wrong side of the American-Mexico war."

" _Tabarnack_ \--when does the segment air?"

"10 tonight."

"Ok, I'll call up the parents, see if I can calm them down. And get Sid on the camera, he needs to issue an apology, even if it's not a real one."

"Yes, sir." Dan hung up and popped some Advil. Something told him he was going to need more.

Stevie Y didn't go as smoothly as Mario did.

"The wrong side," Stevie said flatly, and Dan bit the inside of his cheek. Don Cherry liked Stevie Y, and Stevie had a lot of roots in the community, but god damn he was stubborn when he wanted to be.

"That is what has been relayed to me, Stevie," Dan said, fiddling with his pen.

A sigh on the other end, and then Stevie said, "Fine. I know Ozzie down at Channel Five, I think he can be convinced to shorten the segment. Do you want me to talk to Don?"

"Um, if you could?" Dan asked-- if Stevie Y got Don Cherry in a good mood and willing to listen to him, that would be fantastic.

"Will do. Thanks for letting me know, Dan."

"Have a nice day, Stevie." Dan hung up. He sighed and massaged his temples before turning on the intercom to call Sid down.

 

**Eleven O'Clock**

 

Sid didn't look too pleased. Of course he wasn't. He had to talk to McGuire, and Sid was very big on teaching history the right way. 

"It's history! There is no wrong side! Except taking one,” Sid said, crossing his arms and frowned. "I don't need to apologize."

"I know Sid, but this is Don Cherry we're talking about here. You know, the guy who once brought down Bure just by implying that he was a spy for Russia? Just say something like,'I didn't mean to offend anyone or seem unpatriotic.' We've been through this before."

Sid scowled down at the floor. This had indeed happened before in years past but it was never this big of an issue. Cherry had never threatened to air a 15 minute segment about it.

Dan added, "Mario is talking to the parents and Stevie Y to Cherry. It won't hurt to say a little something for Howe High."

Sid sighed and let his arms drop.

"Fine,” Sid said and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Sid's awkwardness was actually pretty endearing. People seemed to have trouble connecting Captain Awkward with someone who could've hated America and all it stood for.

Dan sighed. As if on cue, Torts swooped into the office with a wild look in his eye that he turned on Dan.

"Cherry." Torts said, just like he would say "shit”.

Dan raised his eyebrow and adjusted his glasses, "What did Beware-Pierre have to say about it?"

Torts crossed his arms and started pacing, muttering, "Apparently we have to explain the concept of 'written by victors', and just because Crosby teaches fact doesn't mean he's some sort of traitor. He's Canadian, for fuck's sake."

Dan nodded, and raised his coffee pot, "Want some?"

Torts yanked the whole carafe out of his hands and slammed the door behind him. Coffee kept the Torts hulk away for at least ten minutes.

Dan looked at his calendar; this little drama didn't mean that he got out of explaining to Seguin the nuances of attendance policy, the importance of breakfast, and what the truant office was in charge of. Great. Seguin always gave him those eyes, and frankly, it creeped him out. No 17-year-old should be swanning around like that.

" _'allo_!" Giroux said, sticking his head through the doorway--

Dan supposed the look on his face made that gap-toothed smile of Giroux's go away. Giroux cleared his throat and came closer, saying conspiratorially, "I hear Crosby is in trouble."

Giroux looked so smug, but it was the second-worst-kept secret at Howe High that Sid and Giroux cordially hated each other. (The worst-kept secret was that Roy and Torts were fucking, but yeah.)

Dan says, "Careful. Cherry may decide to start looking into your pedagogical methods and your command of Spanish."

Giroux was originally slated to teach French, but then Roy took all of the French classes for himself, and the powers-that-were thought that Spanish was “close enough” to French and made Giroux a Spanish teacher. Not that Giroux knew anything beyond “Hola, me llamo Claude.”

Giroux blanched and hustled his ass out of the office. Dan allowed himself a grin before he forced himself to dial the Seguins' home phone.

He was in the middle of explaining to Mrs. Seguin that no, her son wasn't the perfect angel, when he saw out of the corner of his eye the main door open. He almost dropped the phone-- it was the district superintendent Wayne Gretzky!

Gretzky dusted off an imaginary piece of lint and shook his feathered hair as he waited for Dan--

"Sorry, Mrs. Seguin, I'll have to call you back,” Dan hurriedly said into the phone and fumbled with it for a second. "Mr. Gretzky, this is a surprise!"

"I might've heard from a little bird there was some drama surrounding a teacher here. Is Mr. Tortorella busy?" Gretzky's eyes were twinkling with amusement and a smile was tugging at his lips. He always seemed like he was laughing at all the chaos at Howe High even though Dan was sure it always gave him a mountain of paperwork.

"I'll get him!" Even if Torts was busy, it _was_ the superintendent.

Dan opened the office door.

"Dan, I'm busy here!" Torts shouted from behind a tower of paper. The coffee obviously hadn't kicked in yet.

"It's Gretzky!" Dan shouted back.

"Oh, god." Torts dropped his hands into his head. "Let him in."

 

Torts wanted to kill everyone. Of course, that wasn't an unusual feeling, but seeing Wayne made things somewhat better. For whatever reason, Wayne let Torts continue on as Principal, which meant Wayne liked him, right?

Torts motioned towards the only chair in his office that wasn't drowning in paper, and Wayne set himself down lightly. 

"You've heard about the Don Cherry segment?" Torts volleyed.

Wayne scoffed, "You've talked with Beware-Pierre?" When he saw Torts nod grimly, he continued, "Well, put Sid on camera for a little bit, let him explain the importance of understanding the roots of our great nation etcetera, etcetera, and that'll be resolved. A lot of the PSA have crushes on Sid."

"They do?" Torts muttered. Sid. A guy who couldn't even get properly-fitting pants. Wayne just waggled his eyebrows.

Wayne said, "Yeah. You'd have to say something to the news too. Please refrain from calling Brooks an idiot."

"He is,” Torts muttered. Brooks kept misspelling his name.

"He's also an idiot who likes us, so let's keep that up, yes? What are you going to say?"

"We at Howe High fully support Mr. Crosby and the factual teaching of history?"

Wayne beamed, leaned over and patted Torts on the cheek, "Good job! We'll make an admin out of you, yet." Wayne straightened up and waltzed out of Torts' office, nodded a good-bye to Dan, and got into his car.

Wayne gripped the steering wheel and gently laid his head on it. Muttered, "Please, God, if you exist, don't let Tortorella fuck up such a simple thing." Wayne inhaled and got ready to go off to Richard High. Something about a fire at lunch.

 

Torts sighed and leaned back in his chair, back popping in several places. 

"Dan, get Sid! And get the TV station on the phone!"

Rolling his eyes, Dan called for Sid again, who probably just got his class back under control. Sid told his kids a little too much about what went on at school.

Dan dialed Ozzie down at the TV station that unfortunately was number three in their address book. Luckily, Stevie seemed to have talked to him already because he agreed easily.

"And I managed to cut down Scary Cherry's segment to around 5 minutes. Told him some bullshit about advertisers,” Ozzie said, throwing Dan a bone.

"Thank you so much. You're a life saver,” Dan said.

Sid stomped back into the office and Dan waved him into Tort's office.

Dan hung up and listened to Torts yelling at Sid. It wasn't Moon Sonata, that was for sure. Dan rested his forehead against the cool wood of his desk for a minute. He had wondered how he had gotten this job so easily. Now he knew. Messier had been a creep, AV randomly switched to French mid-conversation and Torts was louder than anyone else Dan had ever known.

He sat up and dialed the Seguins' number again. After another tedious conversation, he called young Seguin up to the office, who as usual, walked like he was going down the red carpet.

"Yo, Disco," Seguin said, slumping in his chair and trying to pose sexily at the same time. It didn't work.

"It's Mr. Bylsma, Mr. Seguin. You have been absent forty days this semester," Dan said, waving a graph paper full of As for absences, "and Chara has mentioned that you keep cutting his anatomy class.

Seguin shrugged, tapped his feet, said, "Ok, and?"

Dan hated dealing with people who didn't give a damn. But he forced himself not to say the obvious and true thing that came to mind because that would be "injurious to the child's psychological development" and instead said, "The more you skip, the longer you're here."

"I can drop out, I'm over sixteen."

Dan raised his eyebrow-- it was getting a work-out today-- and said, "And what will you do to earn a living? Think carefully on this. You know how much $7.25 per hour works out to? You'd have to work 80 hours per week to just stay afloat. You know how many hours are in a week? 168. That means you're throwing away one-third of your week just to flip burgers. Do not go that route, 'k? Stay in school--"

"Be cool, yadda yadda, got it."

"Have you ever heard of Claude Julien?"

"No, why?"

"Because, Seguin, Julien is the truant officer for this school, and he is not an understanding sort. The fewer dealings you have with him, the better. I heard he once ate a student's dog."

Seguin gasped, "No. Is that true?"

Dan raised his hands in a _who the fuck knows_ gesture, "I've only heard it. But I wouldn't be surprised."

Seguin paled, gulped, and nodded his head really fast, "Ok, I'll show up, ok? Just get off my back, ok? Can I go now?"

Dan magnanimously waved a hand in dismissal, and Seguin speed away. Dan chuckled; everyone had seen that picture of Seguin's puppy, so it wasn't that difficult to guess what buttons to press. He wasn't sure if Julien actually ate dogs but Chara might. There was something about him, especially since he grew a beard this semester.

Seguin also seemed be very good at spreading gossip despite not being at school half the time, so hopefully this would help with the other attendance-challenged students.

 

**Twelve O'Clock**

 

Dan took another Advil and opened another spreadsheet about the school's budget. In the middle of his work, his phone rang and he resisted the urge to bang his head on his desk. It was Mario--hopefully he had good news. 

"I talked to the parent with the _issue_ with Sid. I managed to calm them down and they're no longer calling for Sid to be fired."

"Ok, Mario. Sid's going to apologize on TV and Torts will say we support him."

"Good. I have to go-- apparently Richard High set their cafeteria on fire." He hung up without further explanation and Dan for a moment was grateful.

That was only just for a moment though. The budget was like that killer rabbit from that movie-- harmless-looking, but with big pointy teeth. Dan was just the administrative assistant, not the accountant. And he'd be damned if he asked Pronger to help him input in the formulas for amortization or whatever. Pronger wore his pants up to his armpits, he did not need to be smug. Or evil.

At least Howe High was still in the black, although the Practical Arts department kept ordering way too many reams of paper. What in the hell did they need with 5000 reams? Were they going to make a working computer out of paper-mache?

And why did Geno go to Dick Blick? They charged an arm and a leg. They were on a budget. A man who made velvet paintings of his colleagues had no room to talk about artistic integrity.

Dan slid his eyes down at the very last entry, which read: _Et Tango Fait Trois_ , _(10 copies, French Language version of_ "And Tango Makes Three"). He had never heard of the book. But if Roy had ordered it, there would be some parent complaining about the contents, no matter what language it was in.

So Dan typed in the title into Google and got: "The book is based on the true story of Roy and Silo, two male Chinstrap Penguins in New York's Central Park Zoo." Dan would just have to make sure the PFLAG group were louder than the rest of the PSA, in that case.

Dan inhaled deeply, and forced himself to drink water. He would have to pry Sid out of his classroom in a few minutes. But he could just relax. Just for five minutes.

The nice feeling only lasted for a moment before someone slammed their hands down on his desk. Dan's desk was being abused today. Dan looked up--

It was Geno and he didn't look happy.

"Something I can help you with, Mr. Malkin?"

"Why Sid being fired?" Dan's head started throbbing again.

"He's not being fired. He just has to make a statement about teaching history. Cherry said he was teaching the wrong side,” Dan said, aiming for soothing. He probably missed.

Geno didn't look convinced. The man was incredibly protective of Sid. He crossed his arms and glowered down at Dan like this was all his fault, said, "He shouldn't apologize."

"It's not really an apology, we've smoothed it over-- he just needs to play nice for the press."

"If Sid fired I quit."

That wasn't really a threat there were dozen of people with art degrees clamoring for jobs, but it was still a nice sentiment.

"Of course Geno." He glanced at the time on his computer. He needed to get Sid now. But as Geno left Pronger was walking in and he looked much too smug.

Dan suppressed a groan. Pronger was one of those... _beings_ that seemingly existed to make math painful to learn. He forced himself to say, "How can I help you, Pronger?" in a pleasant voice that would've made his grandmother proud.

Pronger grinned, making his face look like a demon-shaped nightlight, and said, "Oh, no, Dan, it's how I can help you."

Dan clenched his hands underneath the table. There was a German word that meant "face crying out for a fist". Too bad Pronger was monstrously tall and wouldn't oblige Dan by bending down to get punched. Dan pushed himself up and said, "Look, Pronger, I have to go."

Pronger stepped smoothly in front of him, easily blocking the doorway, "The Crosby kid. I can help."

Dan visualized Pronger's head exploding in a mist of red. Forced out a smile as he said, "The situation is being managed as per district procedures. Thank you for your concern."

Dan pushed past Pronger, brushing himself with far too many parts of Pronger's body in the process (Dan made a mental note to immerse himself in boiling water when he got home) and power-walked towards Sid's classroom. Pronger loped right behind Dan, and Dan could just feel the black stain of Pronger's being contaminating the air.

Just as Dan pulled up to the classroom, Pronger laid a hand the size of a hubcap on the doorknob and grinned down at him, saying, "Last chance to have my help."

Pronger was bending down. Despite Pronger's many, many, _many_ complaints over the years, Howe High hadn't retrofitted the doorways to fit Pronger. Dan could punch him now.

But not in front of the sophomore US history class, who had affixed their 60 eyes on Dan and Pronger's interaction through the narrow steel-reinforced doors.

"Fine, Pronger. How can you help." Out of the corner of his eye, Dan could see Sid trying to suppress his grimace-- Pronger and Sid had never ever gotten along.

Pronger smirked, "Orr."

Dan blinked, feeling distinctly wrong-footed. What would Bobby Orr be able to do with "Tejas-gate"? Orr had taken a desk job after the arthritis in his knees got to him, and Orr always maintained a "classy" reputation.

"Orr is a donor. Very close friends with Cherry, or so he tells me," Pronger continued, "and will give us five thousand dollars if we let Crosby take the heat."

Dan narrowed his eyes, "Five grand for what?

Pronger reared back, almost as if Dan had insulted him, "Why, for science and math enrichment trips!"

"Where to." If Dan approved a field trip to a creationist museum this shitstorm would look like a little rabbit poo.

"The Center for Nuclear Safety."

"Christ, Pronger," Dan hissed, "Do you want kids to come back with three eyes?"

Pronger's face seemed considering of the _benefits_ of such a development. Dan pushed away Pronger and poked his head inside the very silent classroom--

Sid hadn't even bothered to keep writing on the board. No one was taking notes. Dan cleared his throat and said, "It's time, Sid."

Sid pressed his lips together and walked towards Dan--

And Pronger swooped into the classroom, booming at the top of his lungs, "Oh, my, I have a free period now, and I'm more than willing to finish this class up."

You could hear the collective groan from the opposite wing. Pronger rubbed his hands together and turned to the board, saying, "Now, we're going to talk about the x-axis and the y-axis..."

Dan held back Sid's sudden jerk towards Pronger, muttering into his ear, "Quit it, it's only for ten minutes, suffering builds character and all."

"He's not even going to teach them history!" Sid complained once the door slammed shut, "He said the other day he thought the English won the Hundred's Years War because--and I am fucking quoting verbatim-- 'The French never win.'" Sid's eyes were bugging out rather alarmingly.

"Calm down. You can unteach them everything he said, _later._ Now come on." He grabbed his hand and dragged him back to the office, Sid protesting the whole way and detailing how historically disrespectful Pronger was.

Torts was waiting in the front office looking like someone had just pissed in his cornflakes.

"Come on, Crosby." He growled and grabbed Sid by the collar, "Bylsma, make sure no one kills anyone while I'm gone!"

Dan sat down heavily and shuddered at the memory of Pronger leaning into his space and smelling vaguely of burnt rubber. Even Lavy was preferable to Pronger. At least Lavy wasn't 6'6 and looked like he sacrificed puppies in his basement.

It was oddly quiet without Torts yelling at someone. Until Shanny ran out of his own office.

"There's a fight!" He yelled over his shoulder, flying down the hallway. Dan pondered following him but decided it wasn't worth it. He would let Shanny and Officer Johnson deal with this one. But he didn't look forward to telling Torts about it when he got back.

Dan looked around the open office, checking for delinquent teenagers and forehead-vein-popping authority figures. Coast was clear. Dan leaned down and unlocked the bottom drawer, and pulled out a travel bottle of Crown Royal, poured the entire thing in his mug, raised it up to his mouth--

"Drinking on school property," Lavy said, "Don't think D.A.R.E would like that." Dan narrowed his eyes at Lavy. Fuck him, he just had a very grueling day, ok? And it was five o'clock somewhere.

Dan chugged the entire mug, making Lavy raise an impressed eyebrow as he adjusted the package on his hip.

"Sorry, there's a box the warehouse forgot to put on the truck this morning. Would you mind signing for it?" Lavy asked, raising the signing pad towards Dan.

Dan couldn't explain what happened next, but somehow Dan had scribbled his own cell number on the pad, and shoved it back towards Lavy. Lavy read the text field and raised an eyebrow, "Should I call this for a good time?"

"No, call it when this shit happens, so that I'll know to be ready for you."

Lavy smirked, and drop-kicked the box across the room until it landed against Torts' closed door. "See you...Dan."

Dan dropped his head to the table.

Was it three yet?

 

**One O'Clock**

 

Maybe drinking alcohol wasn't the best idea when you already had a headache, but at least it improved Dan's mood somewhat. 

Torts slammed the door open, a sulky Sid trailing behind him.

"That was the worst thing I've ever had to do,” Torts muttered. Dan did not say anything about Roy. Or about the time he squirted water at a parent and had to do 40 hours of community service.

"We filmed it _ten_ times before Torts finally managed to leave out the f-bomb." Sid interjected--before he remembered Pronger was still teaching his class and he took off, muttering “ _fuckfuckfuck”_ underneath his breath.

Dan smirked, and turned on Torts-- "Torts, Shanny is taking care of a fight so you might want to go check that out."

Torts growled and picked up the package Lavy had slid against his door and threw it down on the ground. Pen caps went flying everywhere. Dan watched mildly. This wasn't the first package Torts had broken open. It got old around the 20th time.

"Everything that could gone wrong has!" Torts shouted to the pockmarked ceiling tiles before stomping out into the hallway. Dan sighed and wondered if anyone would notice if he left early. Probably but it was awfully tempting.

He still had two hours left and he had already exhausted his alcohol supply. He pulled up Excel and went back to work on shit that Torts was supposed to be doing.

Dan was into the groove, when his phone rang--

"Hello, this is Howe High, how can I direct your call?"

"DIRECT IT UP YOUR ASS," the voice shrieked. Dan closed his eyes. Avery.

Some people never did move on from high school. Dan hung up--

The phone rang again. Dan had to pick it up, it was school policy, but it probably was Avery. Dan pressed his lips together and picked up.

"Hi--"

"This is Toews." Dan felt his stomach sink. Toews always called Dan whenever he was "referring a student to the office".

"Who should I be expecting?"

"Jones. Seth Jones, I mean."

Dan blinked. Seth was not a student who would piss off Toews normally, but... "Ok, I'll be expecting him."

Precisely two minutes later, Seth walked in, looking shamefaced and forcing himself to sit down on the hard wooden bench like it was a bed of nails. Dan wordlessly passed over his candy dish to him.

Seth took a Reese, unwrapped it, and shoved it in his mouth.

Dan let Seth sit there and digest before he asked, "Do I want to know?"

Seth inhaled deeply, slowly said, "It... _appears_ Mr. Toews disagrees with me about the role of Brett Ashley in The Sun Also Rises. Matters... _escalated_. And here I am."

Seth had the rare gift of calling people assholes without actually using the word. Dan was envious.

Dan clucked, "You do know Toews named his car _Brett Ashley_ , do you?"

Seth jerked up, delight on his face, "No! Seriously?"

Dan nodded, "Yep."

Seth smiled broadly, thinking about the piece-of-shit 1998 Geo Metro Toews drove to and from school, garishly colored electric blue and festooned with stickers proclaiming Toews' "nice guy" status, which Toews called _Brett Ashley_. He folded his long arms behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling, and said, "Well, that's something to think about while I serve detention."

Dan waved a hand in Seth's direction, "Pah, forget about that. Stay here for the rest of the period, and Toews will be pissed about something else tomorrow, don't worry. You're in the running for Student-Citizen of the year, wouldn't want to jeopardize that."

"Thank you," Seth said, "Really, thank you. My mom would kill me if I got detention."

"No problem, Seth. Oh-- this is stupid, I'm showing my age, but could you help me a little with Excel?"

Seth stood up, and laid his hand over the computer mouse, said, "I guess I owe you one, eh? Fair enough."

Torts came back and gave Seth a confused look before retreating back to his office.

Shanny came in a few minutes later, looking rather rumpled. He was hauling Tom Wilson and Nathan MacKinnon behind him. MacKinnon gave Seth a thumb-up as he stumbled after Shanny. Shanny pushed Wilson and MacKinnon into his office before slamming the door shut behind him.

Dan rolled his eyes. This was the second fight Wilson had gotten into this year. He was probably going to get expelled if he kept this up. And knowing MacKinnon, he had gotten into that fight to protect Drouin.

He tapped away at his keyboard and willed the time to go faster. He saw something out of the corner of his eye and saw Roy trying to act casual.

"Torts wanted to see me about uh, _paperwork,_ " Roy offered lamely when he saw Dan looking at him.

"Before you go, Roy, remember there is a student here so please try to restrain your language."

Roy turned and frowned at Seth. Seth raised an eyebrow at him and waved a little. Roy scowled and said something that didn't sound very kind.

"Great,” Roy muttered under his breath before walking into Tort's office. He walked out a few minutes later, lip sticking out in a pout. Dan rolled his eyes and was immensely grateful for Seth's presence.

 

**Two O'Clock**

 

Seth stood up, and looked down at Dan, "Tough day, yeah?" 

Dan looked at him and said, "Tough isn't the best description. But yes. Hang in there, Seth. And remember--"

"Success is the best revenge," Seth finished. As Seth walked out, Dan sighed. If the school was full of kids like him Dan's life would be so much easier.

Dan turned back to his screen, typing away at the memo he had to put out for Wayne, even though Wayne knew what happened today in excruciating detail and he was a bit busy with Richard High. How in the hell do you explain that a local reporter with bad fashion taste had a hate-on for your award-winning history teacher without using those words? How in the hell do you explain Pierre and Kesler suggesting that they call those aggrieved parents but not so nicely? At least Cherry hadn't caught on to the relationship network among the teachers. It was a bit embarrassing--

 _SLAM_. Pronger elbowed the door open, and the Schenn brothers followed him, looking cowed. Pronger's face looked like a thundercloud.

"You didn't listen to my suggestion, Dan. I'm disappointed," Pronger said through his teeth.

Dan tried to raise his shoulders casually, ignoring the urge to dirty his pants, and said, "Life's full of disappointments. Like me being here and--"

The Schenn brothers.

"Why are Luke and Brayden here?" Dan finished.

"They cheated."

Dan raised his eyebrow. "How, Pronger?"

Pronger shook Luke by his shirt to make him talk, and Luke said, "weprovedhisformulawrong"

Dan squinted. Pronger shook Luke again. Luke grimaced as he repeated himself, "We proved his formula wrong."

Dan laid back in his chair, tapped his fingers on the desktop, and said, "Tortorella has had a very trying day. Do you really want to bother him because your ego is bruised?"

Pronger snarled, "It's respect."

Torts barged in, "Fuck your respect, Pronger, shut up, you were wrong, they were right, move the fuck on. Scram, boys. I never want to see you two again."

They scrammed.

Torts turned to Pronger, "The only reason you are here is because you somehow manage to convince donors to give money, despite that trash can you call your personality. But guess what? You don't have to be a math teacher."

Pronger froze, "You wouldn't."

"Dodgeball is such an uplifting sport, isn't it? That's what made America great, dodgeball. Big guy like you would be a good target, you know,” Torts said, stroking his goatee in thought.

Pronger didn't have a response. He would have stomped out but he had to pause to duck his head through the doorway.

Torts spun to Dan, his eyes locked onto Dan's.

"You. Have you finished the budget?"

"Yes. It's in your inbox."

"Good. Get the fuck out of here. You've been eating shit all day. I want to see you here tomorrow, bright and early."

Dan left scuff marks on the floor and tire marks on the parking lot in his great haste in leaving.

 

**Ten O'Clock.**

 

The news only showed five minutes, as promised, and Torts didn't look too unsuitable to educate children on TV. Sid didn't look like he was a threat to the American way of life. Even the small cafeteria fire at Richard High didn't look too bad, not with Oduya's smooth voice narrating the events. Something about exploding popcorn bags? Dr. Subban didn't seem happy about that.

Don Cherry still looked like a florescent ass-wipe.

Can't have everything in life, Dan thought as he put his feet up, and scooted his mac and cheese closer to his mouth.

**END.**


End file.
